


Present

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: D/s undertones, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Sherlock says a Bad Word™️, Smoking, Virgin Sherlock, handjobs, jim's in charge babey, kind of off handed and not anything in depth, mentions of recording, moriarty typical Daddy kink, use of the word fag in reference to a cigarette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21557704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Canon Divergent. It's Christmas, and, well, Sherlock's been so good lately, Jim thinks he deserves a present.
Relationships: James Moriarty/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Present

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhhhh I wrote this like five or six years ago ago and took about ten minutes to edit it so have fun I guess

“Have a fag?” a smooth, crooning voice offered, far too close to Sherlock’s ear.

He refused to jump, refused to turn from his position hunched over the microscope.

“Nicotine patches,” he answered simply, adjusting the magnification and shifting his sample.

“But it's Christmas, darling Sherlock.” A finger ran down his spine slowly, warm lips brushing his ear. “Have a fag.”

Sherlock scowled when one was slipped between his lips, finally turning and facing the man now leaning casually beside him, smiling like an old friend.

“Moriarty,” he snarled, plucking the cigarette from between his lips. 

“Darling,” Jim scolded. “James, please. Or Jim, if you preferred the time I played IT.”

Sherlock grimaced at the thought, remembering the truly awful ensemble the man had managed to put together.

“Why are you here?” he asked instead of answering, eyes darting towards the door suspiciously.

Jim pouted dramatically, picking up the cigarette Sherlock had placed down and working it through his fingers lazily.

“I can't just come visit my favorite detective?” he simpered. “You have been  _ so  _ good lately, Daddy thought you deserved a present.”

With that, he held the cigarette back up, waiting patiently with a teasing grin on his face.

“Good?” Sherlock asked, hesitantly lowering his head and taking the cigarette between his lips. 

“Oh, brilliant,” Jim answered breathily.

He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicking the flame on as he crowded closer to Sherlock, lips brushing his ear again.

“You've been such a good boy recently, keeping that pretty nose out of my business and sticking to your little Yard cases,” he murmured lowly. “Daddy’s very happy with you, honey.”

Sherlock sucked in the first breath, groaning at the feel of smoke coiling in his lungs, his head tilting back as he exhaled slowly. It didn't occur to him how intimate the position was until Jim tilted his head, brushing his lips along Sherlock’s jaw for barely a second before retreating. 

“Must you refer to yourself that way?” Sherlock managed after a few seconds, eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss as he took another drag.

“Daddy?” Jim asked with a laugh. “It's just to remind you who’s in charge here, honey.”

“You’re not in charge of me,” Sherlock told him coolly, eyes slitting back open momentarily, brow arched.

Jim laughed, low and bright and charmingly innocent, his hands tugging at the lapels of Sherlock’s coat to straighten them.

“I'm in charge of everything,” he corrected Sherlock, eyes fluttering darkly, daring Sherlock to refute him.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes, knowing that, at least right now, Jim was in fact leading the game they played together. He took another slow drag, luxuriating in the feeling of nicotine rushing through his blood. His hips shifted on his stool as he leaned back, and he was surprised to find himself hard. 

It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten an erection, but it was generally from the rush of solving a case, occasionally from just the right dose of heroin when he used to shoot up. Never with someone else so close to him. But, he realized, if he were to be stimulated by anyone, it would be Jim. Clever and brilliant and so unstable, and he really wasn't bad looking either.

“Is that your phone in your pocket, or are you just that happy to see me?” Jim asked slyly, running a hand up Sherlock’s thigh and slipping it into his pocket, pulling his phone out deftly. 

Of course he'd have noticed. And he'd probably understand that it was more than just the nicotine, too.

“Do you want Daddy to fix it for you, Sherlock?” he continued, placing the phone on the counter and pushing Sherlock’s thighs apart with his knee. 

“Dear Jim will you fix it for me to make me cum?” Sherlock asked with a scathing laugh, a parody of their first real meeting. “Why would I want that?”

“Because you stare at my mouth every time we see each other,” Jim grinned, hands moving to tug at Sherlock’s belt slowly. 

Sherlock very pointedly didn't stop him, staying in his reclined position and breathing deeply from the cigarette again. 

“You're not going to suck my cock,” Sherlock said blandly.

Jim arched his brows playfully, grinning as he stepped in between Sherlock’s spread thighs.

“Oh, I like you cursing, honey,” Jim teased, nipping at his jaw. “But of course I'm not. Daddy doesn’t get on his knees for just anyone.”

“I'm not just anyone,” Sherlock shot back.

“No, you’re Sherlock Holmes,” Jim laughed. “I'm going to be kind enough to let you cum, and if you're good, I'll let you get on your knees for me.”

Sherlock smirked tauntingly, breathing the smoke out directly in Jim’s face.

“What an incentive,” he drawled. “Go on then.”

His hopes of acting coolly unaffected by the whole thing went out the door when Jim’s hand slipped beneath the band of his pants, fingers already slick and warm, tearing a choked groan from his throat. He had no idea when the man had gotten lube out, but he was infinitely grateful as that slick hand pumped him slowly, teasing him with hints of pleasure as he inhaled smoke, head tilted back.

“Won't be able to call you The Virgin anymore soon enough, will I?” Jim pouted, twisting his fingers around the head of Sherlock's cock when the man tried to speak.

“Bit, ah, presumptuous, aren't you?” Sherlock managed, barely keeping his eyes open through the onslaught of pleasure.

He'd never felt anyone else's touch before, and Jim’s hands were magical.

“Honey,” Jim laughed patronizingly, biting sharply at his exposed collarbone, enjoying the bloom of pink that followed his teeth. “If I wanted to have you, you'd never be able to stop me.”

“You wouldn't rape me,” Sherlock answered confidently, voice breathy as his hips began working up into Jim’s hand.

“I kill people without a first thought, much less a second. Do you really think I'd stop at rape?” Jim crooned, voice directly in his ear, laughing as Sherlock’s hips stuttered into his grasp.

“I said you wouldn't rape  _ me,”  _ Sherlock gasped out, one hand reaching out to grip Jim’s shirt as the cigarette dangled loosely in the other. “It's not a game if were not both playing.”

Jim hummed against his throat, shrugging in agreement as he sped his hand up, grinning widely at the hitched breath it pulled from Sherlock.

“That's true enough,” he murmured. “And I won't have to, when I decide to take you. You'll bend over whatever I have you near like a good little pet and take me all the way in, spear yourself open on my cock.”

Sherlock’s hips were twitching every other second, panting breaths falling from his lips, the cigarette slowly slipping from his fingers as he let pleasure wash over him.

“You're going to cum soon,” Jim said gleefully, stroking firmly over Sherlock’s cock. “Ask me for it, Sherlock. Say ‘dear Jim, please will you fix it for me and let me cum’?”

Sherlock’s lips moved uselessly, his fingers clutching at Jim’s suit tight enough to crease it, hips moving urgently against his hand.

“Jim,” he managed, breath coming short as he tried to keep his eyes open. “James. Let me cum.”

Well, he supposed that was the closest he'd get to obedience from the great Sherlock Holmes unless he wanted to break him. And he did so like all that sass.

“Close enough,” Jim laughed, twisting his hand and stroking fervently over the head, watching as Sherlock writhed beneath his hands. “Cum for me, honey.”

And Sherlock shattered so magnificently, Jim wished he'd been recording. Oh well, surely there was a camera or two in the lab that he could hack later. Even if he wouldn't have the truly sinful noises falling from plush lips, the visual would be enough.

“So good for me, darling Sherlock,” he taunted, breath hot and damp against Sherlock’s throat. “Daddy's turn now, don't you think?”

He liked Sherlock like this, boneless and compliant even as he glared up at Jim, cock still hanging out of his trousers, cum on his shirt. He looked perfect kneeling at Jim’s feet. 

“I never said I'd suck your cock,” Sherlock grumbled, hands delicately pulling at Jim’s belt regardless.

“No, honey, I did,” Jim laughed, shifting his hips so Sherlock could pull his half hard cock out. “And I'm in charge.”

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this cause I don't just want to delete it but I also need space on my phone lmao.  
> Once again, not my usual, but I'm in a rut and need to be creative even if only a tiny bit.


End file.
